Everything, Sir
by Tess 4 5
Summary: Fancy a pint? After a terrible day when the thoughts walk their own way. Sometimes dead end zigzagways lead to somewhere.
1. Chapter 1

Author's note: I don't own any of the characters nor the original Inspector Lynley Mysteries – they belong to Elizabeth George and the BBC.

Review and comment, but please keep in mind that I'm no native speaker. Thanks!

If I did something terribly wrong (rating, grammar, spelling...), please let me know. This is my first story ever.

I highly recommend reading the first chapter of "Nothing, Sir" first, written by Lil'Dutchy in 2010. That story inspired me for mine. Thanks Lil'Dutchy for the story and the inspiration. And excuse me for throwing realism out of the window, but **I could**… ;-)

Mine is clearly set after "Know Thine Enemy". Havers and Lynley went for a pint.

Believe me! Read "Nothing, Sir" first!

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Once again Barbara just looked in her glass, nearly empty, so she couldn't see his eyebrow, once again raised questioning. But she knew he did it. He always did – or so she thought – when he could see through her little lies or when she said something he considered stupid.

"One more?" he asked.

_That would be stupid!_ she thought. She could sit the whole night here drinking beer with Lynley and looking at him but she knew that at some point she would be getting very tipsy and probably do or say something very stupid measured against that mood she was in.

"nah, better stop and go home." she said with a lopsided grin. "Got loads of work to do tomorrow." _And besides I do not want to get in trouble_, she thought.

He nodded. "Can I give you a ride?"

_Bloody hell, yes! _Immediately she blushed as dark red as the pubs walls were. Did she say that aloud? Thank god she didn't. She downed the last drops of her beer hoping that he didn't see her red cheeks and instead accepted the lift in a much more civilized way. _Gods, Havers, where are your manners?!_

Her thoughts had taken a very dangerous dead end road and she tried to stop them. It's gotten more difficult without the safety of the table between them. He helped her in her coat and by doing so touched her shoulders. She had to keep in mind that it must have been unintentional. Like she had reflected earlier he sometimes just touched her without any meanings. His shoulder had bumped in her back while he had tried to read what she had held in her hands. Or his hand had been laying on her back and had guided her through the bushes at some crime scene. First she told herself that it was all unintentional. Recently she had started to question that although her brains told her not to do so.

"Thank you!" she said, still trying to stop her thoughts from running this road.

He was a real gentleman, aristocratic to the bone. She liked this behaviour. Although at the beginnig of their working partnership he had not been the gentleman he was now. He even had let _her_ keep _him_ the doors open sometimes or carry _his_ bags. She had felt like he had been the arrogant Lordship with his Sergeant Servant. As years had passed by and their friendship had grown he more and more respected her for being the DS on his side on duty as well as being a good friend in private.

Now he did keep the doors open for her, let her step out of the pub and followed her into the cool night. She deeply inhaled the fresh air hoping that would clean her head. The way home would be difficult enough with both of them so close and his hand on the gearstick so near to her right leg.

_Dead end road!_ she reminded herself. _Don't walk that way!_ Hopefully there wouldn't be many red lights. So as not to get into a hopeless situation coming home soon is what she needed now. _Straight forward, hurry! _She recognized her thoughts getting ambigous too.

He opened the door, let her get into the car and closed it behind her.

"When will you put a CD-player in that old car?" she asked because the original radio crackled very loud when she turned it on. Some oldfashioned swing-music dripped out of the speakers.

"It is no old car it is a classic car and…" he started his defense.

"…an expensive old car…" she grinned. She loved that banter about his undoubtedly beautiful and undoubtedly damageable classic car which he really was so big on.

He slightly leaned over in her direction, stared at her and asserted forcefully "…_classic car!_ And this is the original radio and I will never exchange it for one of those newfangled digital sorcery!" His harsh words were accompanied by a boyish grin and those lovely little wrinkles in the corners of his eyes.

She took in breath like she wanted to say something though she said nothing but just stared in his eyes and grinned back at him. The moment was just a second too long not to be awkward at some point. They weren't saying anything and the silence stretched her nerves. Looking in her eyes his smile slowly dropped. So did hers. She was becoming entangled by his looks. What was he thinking of? He had to believe that she had too much beer when she continued staring at him without saying or doing something.

She forced herself to break the eyecontact, looked through the front window and said "Go ahead, start the engine, maybe I'm getting home before midnight if you kick your steam car!" It made him chuckle.

_There you are, talking about the car with your DI and every word is suggestive!_ she thought. _He must be thinking that I am flirting._ Was she flirting with him or did she just shovels her own grave by not finding appropriate words while talking about nonsense? She had to be much more careful from now on or he will soon poke fun at her.

He instead started the engine and drove her home.

For about ten minutes neither of them spoke. All lights were green. Her thoughts wandered about. She never should let this happen. This falling deep for the Lord DI. For one thing he was her boss and secondly they were absolutely not playing in the same league. Not even the same game, she thought. Once she was at Howenstow she clearly could feel it. Not that his family hadn't welcomed her by heart but it had always been obvious for herself that she is just the little DS, born in Acton. You could see the difference as well as you could hear it. She had been trying not to talk too much with that accent of hers and in doing so she appered to be shy.

Her silentness on the way home was something different. She didn't feel out of place. It was quite the opposite, she felt very comfortable. At the moment she simply said nothing because she was afraid that she would make a fool of herself by saying something that might get her deeper into hot water.

He was the first to speak.

"So quiet? You still think about the tapes?" he asked her continuing her white lie earlier in the pub.

She was thankful for that question. Even if it was a depressive topic it kept her mind from running on. They reviewed the last day on that case. Again she thanked him for not saying that he told her so because he _did_ tell her so. When she said that she was sad about being wrong once more he soothed her by telling her that it was not her fault that she was betrayed by Tania.

Lynley tried to reassure her. "Don't blame yourself." The car stopped.

"Here we are." He turned off the engine and didn't make a move.

The silence came back. She cleared her throat. She knew she had to go now and she better just say goodbye. But she felt like leaning over and giving him a goodnight kiss at least. _Oh, that wouldn't be appropriate at all._ And it would be silly. Lynley sure would laugh about her. The silent minute stretched uncomfortable.

"Doesn't a gentleman opens the door for the lady?" she asked and in the same second was sorry for that stupidity. _He_ is a gentleman but _she_ is no lady. She could open the door by herself. She should do so, thank him for the lift and go home.

She opened the door. But he hurryingly jumped out of the car, closing it in one single movenment and was at her side.

"Sorry Ma'am" he mumbles smiling. "May I lend you a hand?"

It tingled when she took the offered hand and got out of the car. For a wisp of a second they were very close. She stopped breathing. He stopped smiling. Then she let his hand go and stepped aside, letting him close the door.

"Well, er, it…"

"Er, oh, will…"

They talked simultaneously. Then both said "You first." and they giggled.

"Fancy a cuppa?" she asked. But the second she invited him she said to herself that he might not want to have a cup of cheap tea with his stupid DS in her tiny little flat but was too polite to reject the offer. She lost the courage that she didn't know were it came from. _Barbara, you are an idiot!_ She looked at her feet.

"You don't have to." she admitted. "It's late and it would be better not to be drinking tea at that time of the day. Besides tomorrow will be a very difficult day and we both have to get some sleep…"

"Stop talking!" She might have counted several more reasons for him not to have a cuppa if he wouldn't have stopped her. "I would _like_ to have a cup of tea now. Really!" He smiled at her reassuringly. That reassuring smile that she so much liked and sometimes needed. Then he put an arm around her shoulder and turned in the direction of her door. She insured herself that she had cleaned up her flat last evening so she could bring his Lordship there.

Her knees were getting weak. What did she do? On the way to her door her thoughts were racing. She thought about a topic to talk about when sitting on her sofa – no, him sitting on the sofa, her sitting in the armchair. They would just have a cup of tea and call it a day. She must keep it professional. Needed to keep some distance between them. No more physical… He squeezed her shoulder.

He said "After a horrible day nobody would like to be alone so soon. Neither would I. What's on TV?"

She fidgeted with her keys and forced down her trembling so she could open the door. _Alright then, let's watch some Telly. No need to speak. _That would be helping against any awkward silence or stupid smalltalk.

Finally she opened the door and went in her flat. She held the door open and made an inviting gesture to Lynley.

"Come in." she said.

Lynley went in and she closed the door behind him elaboratively. Then she turned and found herself only some few inches away from him. Her breast nearly touched his chest when she breathed and she suddenly had to breathe very heavy. She blushes and had a lump in her throat.

"Sir…?!" she croaked.

"Don't sir me!" he rasped.

She stopped breathing and both didn't make a move. Then he slowly bent down his head.

_He tries to kiss me and he gives me all the time to back off!_ she thought. She didn't back off. Instead she instinctively splitted the difference.

Their lips met. Softly he kissed her. She realized that he didn't put his arms around her so she _still_ could have backed off. Then he took her hand.

She had her eyes closed and enjoyed the kiss and the contact of their hands. A wonderful warmth went through her body. When he freed her lips she started to breathe again. She was irritated. Where did that come from? What must he be thinking of her? On the other hand – _he_ did initiate the kiss. Was he playing with her? She stared at him in disbelief.

But she felt the deep longing to run her hands through his hair, to touch his stubbly cheeks, to touch his lips again. To kiss him again.

_He kissed me!_ she realized. Suddenly she was terrified and made a step away from him only to feel the door in her back.

He didn't release her hand. His eyes darkened and she saw his raw and unadulterated lust.

He made a step towards her so she was stuck between him and the door. Her eyes went wide open, her heart raced, her head said _Oh, don't do that!_ and her body screamed _Take what you can get!_

He pushed her up against the door and pressed his lips on hers. This was the spark that causes an explosion in her belly. Now she couldn't hold her own longing anymore, concealed so many years under layers of protection, so finally she wiped her fears and doubts aside and answered his kiss desperately. He slightly bit her lips, his tongue demanded admission and she let him enter her mouth. One of her hands never broke contact with his. She felt his other hand searching for her breast under her shirt. She exhaled heavily into his open mouth when his fingers finally found what they were fumbling for. With his hips he pressed her urgently against the door. She grabbed his belt and tried to pull him even closer. Intensively she could feel his desire through all that cloth between them.

How they ended up in her bed she didn't know exactly. Their clothes were spread all the way from the door to the bed. She remembered her weak _... should we really...?_ in the middle of that way counteracted by her wanton movements. She remembered his hungry growl as they were sitting on the bedside. She remembered the jittery search for a condom as well as his interruption right before they melted, asking if _she_ really wants this. And she remembered not very much later calling out his name: "Thomas!"

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She laid on her back with his exhausted body half on hers. He breathed through his nose and this gave her a tickling feeling on her neck. She felt deeply satisfied. All the trouble they would be having at the Met, all the embarrassments concerning their distinctions, all those difficulties are miles away. Tomorrow would be soon enough to think about what kind of outburst of long lasting and long hidden adoration this evening was and where this all would in the end lead to.

A tear rolled down her cheek but she was smiling. He felt the tear dropping on his face and looked up.

"Everything okay, Barbara?!" he asked her quietly with a shaking voice and an encouraging smile. She felt his concern.

"Yes, everything, Sir." she smiled teasingly back at him. Tomorrow there would be enough time to talk about problems. Talk more than they've done this evening. But that would be tomorrow.

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So, thanks for reading. If you've already read the second chapter of "Nothing Sir", you know what follows...


	2. Chapter 2

Author's note: I don't own any of the characters – they belong to Elizabeth George and the BBC.

*The lyrics in this chapter are written by Larry Clinton for Tommy Dorsey in the 1930s. I don't own them.

Review and comment, but please keep in mind that I'm no native speaker. Thanks!

**I highly recommend reading the second chapter of "Nothing, Sir" first, written by Lil'Dutchy in 2010. That story inspired me for mine. Again thanks to Lil'Dutchy for the story and the inspiration.**

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Once again he watched her looking in her glass and he raised a questioning eyebrow. He did it automatically and every time when that woman on the other side of the table has one of her strange ideas or in moments like this when she tried to fool him. But he desided not to ask any further.

"One more?" he asked instead.

He would love to sit here a little bit longer having some pints and a good conversation with Barbara. Or just look at her. But he knew this only would lead to a tiddly mind and too many more drinks later on when he is alone at home, trying to cope with being in a complete turmoil.

"nah, better stop and go home." she said with a lopsided grin. "Got loads of work to do tomorrow." Her grimace said that there must be something more. But like usual he didn't dare to ask.

He nodded. "Can I give you a ride?"

_Oh, hell, what was he saying? _He cursed inwardly. Apparently she didn't miss the unintentional double meaning in his words because in an instant her face reddened. He acted as if he didn't see it. After hiding her face in the glass downing the last remainders of her beer she agreed that he takes her home. _Mind your words, Lynley. Don't get yourself in trouble! _Even if some part of him had its own opinion of that.

He stood up, got his jacket and helped her in her coat. By doing so he touched her shoulders. It was not totally by accident, he admitted to himself. And he let his hand linger a split second longer than necessary right beside her earlobe. He sometimes touched her pretending it was without any meanings. Fingers skimmed when he handed her a file, shoulders closed when both bent over a corpse. He wondered if she was aware of that. Sometimes he had thought he saw a reaction in her eyes or moves but he dared not to interpret that.

"Thank you!" she said. He returned to the present and brought his gentleman's behaviours back to mind. He remembered that he once had been an arrogant arsehole against his DS. He even let _her_ carry _his_ bags like she had been his servant. It took him some years to completely realize that she was a true equal partner. An equal partner on duty as well as the best friend he probably had. She never lost faith in him even through his worst times.

He kept the doors open for her and followed her out of the pub. There was cool fresh air outside and he deeply breathed. He wished that a lung full of fresh air would change that improper mood he was in. There was his car, not too far away – no chance to accidentally hold hands. Indeed he was not at all surprised at his thoughts because they've been wandering these zigzagways for quite some time now. They switched between wanting her deeply and self-punishing for that, between those accidental contacts and the fear that she might… _Might what, Lynley, reprimand you? She didn't yet, did she?_

Before he might have been after all slid in the situation to hold hands with Barbara they reached the car. He opened the door, closed it behind her and seated himself on the driver's seat. She turned on the radio. It crackled very loud.

"When will you put a CD-player in that old car?" she asked. A well known swingsong dripped off the speakers. _Oh, dare…_

**…**_**the dipsy doodle is easy to find  
It's almost always in the back of your mind  
You never know it, until it's too late  
And then you're in such a terrible state…***_

"It is no old car it is a classic car…" he stated, somewhat irritated by that song.

"…an expensive old car…" She said it with a broad grin. He liked the way they always chatter about his loved classic car. He had no doubt that despite her slandering she also had a thing for that beautiful automobile.

He slightly leaned over in her direction, fixed her and reasserted "…_classic car!_ And this is the original radio and I will never exchange it for one of those newfangled digital sorcery!" He couldn't help grinning at Barbara.

He thought she wanted to say something because she deeply inhaled but she just kept their grinning eyecontact. He felt a little uncomfortable when the moment stretched but he was captured by her eyes. _I could close the distance _now_ and kiss her_! His smile slowly dropped. When hers was dropping too he suddenly lost self-confidence.

Then she broke eye contact and turned her face to the front window so he was glad that he didn't try to kiss her. From her reaction he concluded that his mood had to be a single-sided feeling. He wasn't sure about himself anymore.

"Go ahead, start the engine, maybe I'm getting home before midnight if you kick your steam car!" He had to chuckle. _Did she realise that nearly every word is suggestive?_ Relapsing he thought that the situation indeed was very flirtatious and he returned to enjoying it.

He started the engine and moved off.

Since all lights were green for about ten minutes of their drive – which is a rare phenomenon in the city of London – his mind had its time to continue spinning around. He was intensively aware of her knee next to his left hand on the gearstick. It was just a few inches away and it would have been so easy to touch it, to graze her knee with his fingertips. To scuttle his fingers up her thigh. He could have clutched it tight. _Oh, Lord, what would she think of you!_ There was no mistake that she must have demanded him to stop and let her take a taxi home. He could imagine her saying it with her lovely accent and her own original kind of rudeness which he loved so much. But this also was one sign of their difference, he had to admit. Barabara must have felt so out of place once at Howenstow although his mother and Judith both reassured him, that they liked her and she would always be welcome.

He never told her that. He was afraid to scare her away. His redhaired DS sometimes was so uncertain when it comes to socializing. She was so vulnerable and closed herself behind thick walls in the presence of "his lot". _Or after a case like that_, he added inwardly. She didn't say a word in those ten minutes.

"So quiet? You still think about the tapes?" he assumed.

He couldn't imagine – or dared to imagine – any other reason. And in order to not stretch his nerves with the physical closeness he started to talk about the case. Barbara was somehow exasperated to be wrong once more with that devilish woman. But it wasn't her fault that she was betrayed by Tania. He tried to reassure her of that. Tania just intrigued her.

"Don't blame yourself." They were at her home.

"Here we are." He turned off the engine. _What now, Tommy-Boy?! Go say goodnight!_

He wanted to lean over and instead _kiss_ her goodnight. In fact he wanted even more, but that was what would have been breaking the ultimate limit. They didn't move, then she cleared her throat.

"Doesn't a gentleman opens the door for the lady?" That was an unexpected boldness. He grinned. And yes, she was right – he had forgotten his manners.

But then instead of waiting she opened the door by herself. _By all means, does that incredible woman has to walk that zigzagway of mine?_ he thought. As fast as possible he hurried to her side of the car and apologizes.

"Sorry Ma'am" he smiled "May I lend you a hand?"

Barbara took his hand gracefully and got out of the car. He could swear that she stopped breathing. He stopped smiling. They were so close and he felt like the air around them was sizzling electrically. But then she stepped aside so he could close the door. He turned back to Barbara.

"Well, er, it…"

"Er, oh, will…"

They talked simultaneously. Then both said "You first." _Alright, this is getting strange_, he thought, and both chuckled.

"Fancy a cuppa?" she asked and in the same time looked as if she were regretting her invitation. She dropped her gaze. He was still tossed and turned. On one hand it would be better to stop here. On the other hand he thought that it could become a nice evening. And a cup of tea would be harmless. He decided to take the chance. Barbara nearly never invited him to her flat.

"You don't have to." she interrupted his thoughts. "It's late and it would be better not to be drinking tea at that time of the day. Besides tomorrow will be a very difficult day and we both have to get some sleep…"

Maybe she got the wrong idea of his quietness. "Stop talking!" If he didn't have stopped her she might have convinced him. "I would _like_ to have a cup of tea now. Really!" He smiled at her reassuringly, took heart and turned both in the direction of her door by putting an arm around her shoulder.

_What am I doing?_ he asked himself. He is aware of Barbaras body the whole of the evening and here he was dooming himself by not driving home immediately. But it was a simple invitation for a cup of tea. _Nothing more._ But she backtracked by counting the reasons why they should have ended the evening at that point. He should have seized that. Instead he squeezed her shoulder. He should have gone home and leave that physical evening. But after this horrible day he also wouldn't like to be alone so soon. He told her that.

"What's on TV?" _Leave that thin ice, Lynley!_ Some Telly would be innocent and distracting.

Barbara seemed nervous to him because it took her a while to open the door. He said to himself that he didn't have to put too much in that. His mind must betray him. It's just an invitation for a cuppa. What must Barbara be thinking of him if she could read his thoughts.

Barbara went through the door, held it open and invited him in.

"Come in." she said.

He stepped in her little flat and didn't know what to do next. The sofa is about just one step away from the door and there is no coat stand for his jacket. So he just turned to be facing her. They were only a few inches apart. His chest nearly touched her breasts while breathing. He recognized her blushed face and his throat felt rough.

"Sir…?!" she croaked.

"Don't sir me!" he rasped.

His heartbeat sped up. _I'm going to kiss you, Barbara!_ he thought and slowly bent down his head. He gave her time to back off. If the path he had finally chosen to take was the wrong path she could stop it here. But she didn't. When she lifted her face to meet him halfway his heart skipped a beat.

Their lips met. He kissed her softly and didn't dare to put his arms around her. He didn't want to hold her captive. Then she took his hand.

With eyes closed and lips touching and hands entwined he could feel a warm frisson running through his body. He let her lips go and smiled half disbelieving and half pleased. Did she really kissed him back? Did he scare her now? He stared in her much the same disbelieving eyes.

Mirrored in her eyes he could see his own flip-flopping. It looked like she was longing for him but in the same time was so terrified about it. He wanted to tousle her hair. He wanted to kiss her again. He felt so attracted to her.

As if she could've read his mind and went scared about it she made a step away from him. They both still were linked with their hands. And he realized that the door now was in her back.

He felt the urge to push her against it. His thoughts were nothing but lecherous and he didn't care about that anymore.

He closed the distance and captured her between him and the door. _Don't just take her!_ his mind said. He looked in her wide eyes, saw her inner fight between fear and lust and decided to encourage the lust – his own as well as hers.

So he pushed her up against the door. When he pressed his lips on hers he could feel her desperate reaction so he let his own desire run free. He wanted to enter her mouth with his tongue and digged his teeth tenderly in her lips. When she opened her mouth his tongue started its exploration. He still held her hand. His other hand fiddled with her shirt and searched for her breast under it. He squeazed it softly and had to come up for air. She exhaled in his open mouth. It caused a shower of desire running through his whole body and he even pressed her harder against the door. Her hand pulled him at his belt. He decided that there was far too much cloth between them.

He couldn't exactly recall how they made it to her bed. He just knew that on the way they got rid of their clothes somehow. Her halfhearted effort to stop it was overlaid with her lascivious bodytalk. On the bedside he growled hungry and nervously searched for a condom. And apart from all the desire and the lust _he_ let run free he still had the scrap of decency to ask her if _she_ really wants this. He remembered that it might have had to be some time earlier because in that special moment Barbaras wanting was obvious. He still could hear her calling: "Thomas!"

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Knackered he laid there. He touched her body with as much of his as was possible without crushing her. He had his nose buried in her neck and was calming down now. He felt a deep satisfaction. He never could have imagined that Barbara was so eruptive. He had his eyes closed and was breathing deeply. This evening had turned out to be an evening full of pleasant surprises.

He felt a tear dropping on his face and looked up to see Barbara smiling.

"Everything okay, Barbara?" he asked her. Her tears and her smile didn't go together and he didn't know what to think of that. He was a bit concerned.

"Yes, everything, Sir." He was relieved. He decided that tomorrow they would bandy a few more words than they've done this evening. He smiled because he decided that he would make her call him Thomas again.

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Maybe, when I'm getting in the mood (oh, that's a promising songline too...) there will be a story about that "tomorrow". We all know, with those two everything might be possible and everything but simple.


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